Victory
by Esca Madeline
Summary: The Announcer screamed and screamed and screamed in her dark office. Her small office. Her cold office.


Disclaimer: Team Fortress 2 belongs to Valve.

A/N: An announcer drabble that I wrote in an hour. Because it is so hard to find something on her…and because I need a break from studying.

This story is based on the idea that the Announcer is the same woman on both BLU and RED. Very messed up if it's true, but an idea that is full of potential.

**Victory**

_Victory._

She was alone in her dark office. Her small office. Her cold office.

She was all alone except for the guards outside her door, the waiters who brought her meals served on silver trays, the cleaners who cautiously tiptoed around her as they dusted the shelves of knickknacks and trinkets…and those pathetic little men who always looked at her in fear and apprehension. The little men all trembled in her presence, always afraid of saying the wrong words, always afraid of invoking her wrath as she held their worthless livelihoods in the palm of her bloodstained hand.

Everyone always _looked_ at her that way, everyone always _felt _that way.

Everyone.

Now even that poor pathetic little bastard who used to love her…now when he stops in her office to give his reports he just looks tired and sad and afraid.

Silly, stupid man.

_

* * *

_

_Do not fail me **again**._

She had earned it. This was her victory. She had won! She was the Announcer—no, the Fearless Leader of those gullible men, and she had won over them all!

"Have you heard what had happened at the Gravel Pit?" she demanded of the guards, her lips curling into a terrifying smile as the thin roll of cigarette burned between her gnarled fingers. "Have you heard? How those men tore off eyes and limbs and _teeth_ in their attempts to overtake one another? And they did it all for me!"

She let out a chilling laugh and extinguished the cigarette in a nearby ashtray.

* * *

_Success! Success, success, success, success, success!_

"They sprayed their own countrymen with bullets and rockets and flames, and one of those sweet little money grubbing _employees_ of mine…he's dead too. I'm sure he's dead. They must have killed him; maybe another fool slit his throat. How dare he even _think_ he could ever win against me? How dare he even entertain the idea that he could use ME? Idiot men, I have the power to kill them all—I can order them to kill each other and they will never be the wiser because they all belong to _me_! I won! This is my victory! MINE!" The Announcer's hands held the microphone on her desk in a vice-like grip, her knuckles turning white as the veins pulsed wildly against her skin.

The reactions were always different. Some of the guards let her rant, and some of them looked scared. Some of them quietly whispered to her to calm down and she snarled angrily at them for their insolence.

"How dare you!" she shrieked. "How dare you speak that way to me, you filthy little rats! I'm the Administrator! I own you…I can crush you with my bare hands! You're all fired—no, you're all going to the Hydro tomorrow! Get out of my sight or I'll burn you to ashes!"

And they quickly left, their heads bowed low and their bodies shivering. They departed for the battlefield the next day, and many are never seen again.

_

* * *

_

_Success. We have secured the enemy intelligence._

She doesn't understand the rudeness of the men, both RED and BLU. How dare they—how dare they—_how DARE _they have that nerve? They were little better then servants. No, they were little better than slaves. They were all under her thumb, bound by their shackles of avarice, unable to forsake their desire of bloodlust and money.

They all sold their souls to her. Many did it willingly. They were merely dogs sent to attend to her every whim, so how dare they be so rude—

"My dear little boys," she cooed, late at night as a steam of cigarette smoke escaped past her lips. "Dearest little slaves. Come and visit your one true leader. Your master. She'll tell you all about how she destroyed the world. Come and see, little boys. Everything is dark and rotting. And it's all because of me, I did it! Come and see, my useless toys!"

Most of the time the men did not come but sometimes they did, usually when they earned a victory after losing countless numbers of brothers and comrades on the battlefield. Sometimes all she had to do was look up and there they stood, on the other side of her dark, small, cold, cramped little office, a heavily bandaged Scout just barely able to grin through his grotesque injuries while a Heavy wiped sandwich crumbs off his face with his one good hand.

The Solider proudly limped across her office (which she believed was so nice and luxurious because she was the Announcer, the ruler of these men and she deserved nothing less) and handed her the enemy intelligence, stupidly believing that he had in some way served his country like a _hero_.

And in the corner, her precious little Spy leaned against the wall, a smirk pushing past his lips underneath the balaclava he always wore.

_

* * *

_

_You've failed. Prepare for sudden death!_

Sometimes her Child visits. He never spoke during his visits, however. He would just look at her, seemingly ill. Frightened, fragmented pieces of thought always flitted through his eyes, and she knew that he knew. He knew the purpose of her game, the blood money that she had given the other men, but he was in no position to stop her. He was, unlike her other toys, a _real _slave. She had him collared, branded, and she could have him destroyed in a matter of seconds with his so-called teammates being none the wiser. She would make sure they were none the wiser—after all, she did hire her Spies for a reason.

Physically, the men were all superior than her. Many of them were strong, some were even handsome to a particular point, and others still carried themselves with professional bearing. But in the eyes of the Announcer, all she saw were the hapless little failures they were destined to be, the future additions to the growing, decaying compost heaps.

"Pathetic, silly little thing. You thought that this is a war, that there were two sides, that you and those stupid, greedy men were all fighting for a cause? You thought that I raised you for a better purpose? Well, you are nothing. Nothing! Do you hear me? Frankly, I'm disgusted by all of you! Getting slaughtered by one another is the only destiny you and those boys are suited for! You are all nothing! Doesn't that make you angry? It's ok, little one. Tell your Fearless Leader how you feel. I will never betray you."

And this was true. In her world, there were no sides, so who was she going to betray?

"Trust me. Trust me again and again and again and again—BLU or RED, it matters not, for all of you are mine!"

The Announcer screamed. She screamed and screamed and screamed her horrible scream until the Child, the nothing, the fake-brave boy, spun on his heels with his hands over his ears and fled in horror from the sound.

The Child was clearly terrified of her now, but she didn't care. She didn't _need_ him; didn't _need_ anything that could be so easily replaced.

For she was the Announcer and she needed no one. She was the brave and mighty leader of both RED and BLU and she could rule the whole wide world on her own.

The whole wide empty world belonged to her and only her. The hired men might have worn different colors, but sooner or later they would all be coated in the blood they so willingly shed, and then the whole wide empty world would be there for her and her alone!

_

* * *

_

_Prepare to capture __**all **__the control points…_

A report reached her desk one morning—that the hands of a RED Engineer were mangled in a fight and he had trouble building his sentries and dispensers and whatnot.

"He is useless and a failure," the Announcer said in a bored tone, as both a RED and BLU spy stood in front of her desk. "He really should just die." They gave her strange looks, but she only responded with a smile. They then nodded, suddenly understanding her cryptic words before tapping their watches and disappearing.

_

* * *

_

_We have lost the center control point!_

_Failure!_

_You've failed!_

_You've failed!_

_YOU'VE FAILED!_

She always sat with her hands in front of her, always in reach of the gun hidden under her desk drawer even though she was always alone, even though there were several guards outside her dark, small, cold office. Still, she kept them there, kept them near the gun because she wanted to. Because she remembered the one day when that strange little boy came in, a strange little boy who couldn't be the Child because she specifically remembered having ordered one of her Spies to _kill_ the Child.

And then this strange little boy ran at her like a madman and tried to kill her with his pistol until that Spy appeared out of nowhere and slit the boy's throat open.

Security had been increased, or at least the Spies and guards believed it was, but the Announcer knew differently. She knew how strong she was, how mighty she was and no one would dare try to kill _her_. So of course she knew she was safe but she kept that gun there, kept her hands near the gun because she _wanted _to.

_

* * *

_

_Mission begins in sixty seconds._

"Stupid men. You all did what you had to do so that you could earn a little money to have a more comfortable life. You put yourselves through Hell in order to avenge the deaths of your friends, only to get killed yourselves. But have you noticed that you're all the same? Those who you deem as the enemy—they're men too, they're still human. _You_ are also killers. You still killed, you're a killer just like that Soldier who blew up that Engineer who gunned down that Scout who bludgeoned that Heavy to death!

"And then you all laugh it off in beer and sandwiches, wash the blood from your hands over the sink while you all try your best to convince yourselves that what you're doing is right. You all try to forget that you were out there making wives into widows, children into orphans. And you all did forget, didn't you? You all lost what traces of justice you had and you forgot forgot forgot. You forgot that the other side can feel pain like you, forgot that they too believe that what they're fighting for is right. You forgot it all, and in the process you never realized that I control ALL of you, that there are NO sides, that you're just killing yourselves for MY AMUSEMENT—"

"—isn't that right, my dear CHILDREN? Hahahahahahahahaha!"

_

* * *

_

_Victory!_

The Announcer grasped at her victory.

_Victory!_

The Announcer screamed and screamed and screamed alone in her dark office. Her small office. Her cold office.

_Victory!_

_VICTORY!_

_VICTOOOOOOOORRRRY!_


End file.
